


because her hands are moon-touched

by elfloversanonymous (asexuelf)



Series: Femdom Pussy Indulgence [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Dom Isabela (Dragon Age), Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Heavy BDSM, Purring Elves, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Fenris (Dragon Age), Trans Fenris (Dragon Age), Trans Male Character, Whipping, romantic fenris, romantic isabela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 22:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18416966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/elfloversanonymous
Summary: When he wants to be beaten, he is beaten. When he wants to be broken, he is broken. When he wants to be nothing, he is everything, and she guides him through their game so deftly that he, for a time, forgets it’s just fantasy. He loses himself in that space in between.





	because her hands are moon-touched

**Author's Note:**

> B) it was my birthday yesterday so to treat myself i finished up a fic (finally) and am posting it at long last
> 
> the usual disclaimer that i am trans and a content warning that fenris uses the terms clit and cock interchangably in this fic to discuss his own body

They say there is nothing louder than silence, but Fenris knows better.

The silence is loud, yes, and he will readily admit as much, but it’s nothing compared to what comes in between. Breaking the silence whenever it wills to is a deafening  _ crack,  _ followed only by an agony so sharp and stinging and wonderful that he can hardly keep himself from calling out.

If not for the Captain’s orders, he would shout himself hoarse and feel proud of it the next day. Instead, he clenches his jaw and obeys. His Captain ordered him to remain silent and so he shall until she bids him to scream. The only things that break the silence are the whip against his back and the rattling of the chains he’s bound so tightly with -  _ chains _ , yes, not soft rope or sweet lengths of silk like she uses when he's her pet. He is stronger than that. He is worth less than that.

Here, beneath the Captain’s gaze, at her mercy, he is nothing and she is everything. The pain he feels is allowed to be felt only because it is a gift she gives to him. He delights in it, revels in the hot tears pouring down his own face, the spittle drooling from his own clenched teeth, the violent tremble of his body as it is pushed to breaking.

He wants to be broken.

She breaks him. Anything he wants, she gives; when he wants to be held, he is held. When he wants to be beaten, he is beaten. When he wants to be broken, he is broken. When he wants to be nothing, he is everything, and she guides him through their game so deftly that he, for a time, forgets it’s just fantasy. He loses himself in that space in between, belonging to her and belonging to himself because he belongs to her.

If anyone had told him when he was fresh out of Tevinter that he would beg for this, readily love and worship the woman who did this to (for) him, he would have torn out their heart.

Now, he grits his teeth and endures, as he always has. Only here, it is on his terms, by his rules, at his desire, and it feels amazing.

-

He lay shivering against the bed, chest to the soft blankets beneath him, face pressed sideways into Isabela’s pillow. It smells like the fancy oils she uses in her hair, an anchor against the harsh sting of her hands rubbing elfroot into the well-washed wounds on his back.

She always takes such good care of him afterwards. He almost thinks this is his favorite part, when the scene ends and the fantasy melts away into their reality and his mind slowly struggles behind it, knowing even in his foggy daze that his Captain - his lover -  _ Isabela _ \- will take care of him. He feels more loved in these moments than in all his remembered life.

The pain in his back slowly fades as the elfroot does its job, healing the worst of the wounds and leaving behind an impossibly delicious ache. No, he thinks then, of course, the  _ ache _ is the best part. The memory of her rough hands and harsh tools and the incredible pleasure she gifts him - that is the best part. Or … is it the satisfaction? The pride he feels now in himself, in his endurance, beats wickedly in his chest. The knowledge that he pleased Isabela, that he allowed Isabela to please him this way and did not falter, fills him with such strange and honest joy.

“So strong, Fenris,  _ so good. _ ” She is then whispering in his ear, “That’s my man. So good for me.” and it grows larger and lighter within him and he does not try to fight the purr that rises through him.

Isabela’s soft, honey-sweet laughter is just as delighted as he feels.

“I take it that means you’re content?” Her lips move against his temple, shaping words before pressing tender kisses against his skin. Her hand combs through his sweat-tangled hair. “You deserve that, you know. To feel this good. You deserve to feel it all the time.”

As his purr grows louder, he only trembles. He does not entirely remember how to reply.

-

After he has downed an entire waterskin and eaten at least half his apple slices, he finally finds his words again.

“Thank you,” he says, like he does every time, his voice low and rough and only barely slurring (somehow).

She snuggles him closer, his head against her chest. “Thank  _ you _ , handsome. You did amazing, Fenris, you really did.”

A quiet purr starts again. He can barely find it in himself to be embarrassed. “I know.”

“I’m always so surprised by you. And proud of you.” Her hands don’t still in their ministrations to tease him and for that he’s glad. One hand in his hair, soothing it softly, the other running up and down his side, careful of the freshly-healed whip marks. “Do you want to come? It’s not something you have to  _ earn _ , I will always give you what you need, but I’ll admit… I really want to reward you for that stunning performance. May I, Fenris?”

He shivers. “Yes. Yes, please.” 

He’s floating still, naked as a babe against Isabela’s large chest, but only now do his face and shoulders grow hot, tingling with their blush. To come like this, cuddled against her, warm and comfortable and aching… He wants it. He wants her.

She hums happily against his ear as she kisses the edge leading to the pointed tip. “How do you want it?”

He takes a shuddering breath.

“Shall I… suck your cock?” Her hand finds his clit, only long enough to tease. “I know you get shy about my mouth on you, but you taste so wonderful, Fenris, I can’t get enough-”

“No. Like this.” It is half a shock that he interrupts her.

Her mouth smiles against the shell of his ear again. “Oh?”

“Yes. Just… your hands. Touching me. My hair…” He leans all his weight against her. “Slowly.”

When Isabela moves, he feels a brief moment of worry, but it’s only to lay him back against the pillows, warm from her body, and kiss him tenderly. She whispers against his mouth, “Let me take care of you.” and he does.

With one hand in his hair, the other moving in slow circles over his clit, her mouth hot and tender against his own as his still-sore back aches with the reminder of her love, he comes. His moans are shameless, because he is not ashamed. It isn’t possible to feel shame here, he thinks, not while she holds him like this.

What they do here is sacred.

-

When Fenris is finally back to himself, he stretches out like a spoiled house cat and thoroughly grumps.

“My wrists hurt,” he grouses to her. “They’re sore from the metal.”

“The  _ cold  _ metal, love.” To her credit, she is amused, her eyes starry with affection as she humors his odd ritual.

He continues, almost as if scripted, “Yes, the  _ cold  _ metal. They ache. So does my back. And my bits. And my shoulders.”

Being able to tell her  _ no, _ even to the things he loves, is incredible. Being able to make dissatisfaction known - even dissatisfaction that he does not feel - is a sign of his freedom. Even when Isabela chains him and whips him, he is his own man. He is free to do those things and doing them makes him free in a way he cannot achieve otherwise.

She kisses him again, a surprisingly chaste thing. “Whatever can I do to alleviate your pains, my dear?”

“Don’t you dare,” He presses his face into the warm skin of her neck. “The ache is the best part.”

She laughs. “I thought you said the best part is the lead-up? Or, the planning? Or-”

He sighs. “You’re right. I love it all too much. But I was wrong on all accounts.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I was. Because  _ you _ are the best part.”

“Ohh, Fenris!” She peppers his face in kisses. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Isabela.” He smiles at her. “I am yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are a writer's best friends!


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